


War heroes

by Ischa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Big Bang Challenge, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heavy canon based 'read between the lines' look at Dean's and Castiel's relationship during seasons six and seven.</p>
<p>  <i>“No,” Dean says, “it isn't us that are doing this.” Castiel can feel his breath on his lips, they're so close. He can taste the desperation on the air every time Dean exhales. “It's you who's burning everything down to the ground.”<br/>His hand digs into Dean's shoulder too hard, he registers it just in the moment Dean makes a soft noise and steps back.<br/>“You don't understand-”<br/>Dean cuts him off, his fingers are like a vice around Castiel's arm. “You don't understand. You are about to lose everything, Cas.”<br/>“I've already lost everything,” Castiel answers, stepping back. “But I'm going to get it back,” he adds and disappears.</i></p>
<p>This is a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/230065">Undisclosed desires</a>, but can be read on its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: C. and skylar_matthews. All my thanks.  
> Quotes taken from season 6/7.  
> Art by: [dosymedia](http://dosymedia.livejournal.com/)

_I. Playing house_

~1~  
Sometimes Dean remembers. He can't help it. Things are engraved so deep into his skin and bones and brain; his whole body, really. Sometimes he dreams about the things that seemed once important. 

He's staring at the road and not at Cas, he doesn't know if it was like this in reality. 

Probably, he always sucked at this part. “What are you gonna do now?” 

“Return to Heaven, I suppose.” 

“Heaven?” And the word still sounds so wrong in his mind, feels bitter on his tongue. 

“With Michael in the Cage, I'm sure it's total anarchy up there,” Castiel answers, calmly. 

“So, what, you're the new sheriff in town?” 

“Yeah. I like that. Yeah. I suppose I am,” Cas says and now, in hindsight he can feel something else seeing that moment. Not all the loss he was feeling at the time, not the anger that wanted out, that was threatening to eat him alive. 

“Wow. god gives you a brand-new, shiny set of wings, and suddenly you're his bitch again,” he bites out. 

“I don't know what God wants. I don't know if he'll even return. It just... seems like the right thing to do.” Sometimes Dean admires that blind faith Castiel has. Dean lost his faith in the powers that be a long time ago and not even Cas could bring that back. 

“Well, if you do see him, you tell him I'm coming for him next,” he replies. Even now in the dream he can feel the hot, blind anger inside him. 

“You're angry.” 

“That's an understatement.” 

“He helped. Maybe even more than we realize,” Castiel answers and he sounds like he's thinking of something just out of his reach. Just there in the corner of his eye, at the tip of his tongue. Dream Dean is too angry to see it, but Dean, now Dean, can. He's had this dream so many times already, that he doesn't even listen to the words anymore. He takes every little detail in instead. Things that he didn't pay attention to at the time. Things that he couldn't even see back then. 

“That's easy for you to say. He brought you back. But what about Sam? What about me, huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole!” 

“You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom?” Castiel asks. Dean doesn't know. He would like some peace from time to time. Now he has peace, but the things that go bump in the night are still out there. They don't go away because he isn't hunting them anymore. They don't go away because he saved the freaking world and there is no one left who knows about it on earth, except Bobby. 

“Well, you really suck at goodbyes, you know that?” He means it too. He didn't know how to say the right words. 

There is so much he didn't say at the time. Don't go, was pretty high on that list. That imaginary list that he keeps inside his head and no one except him has access to. But what would've Castiel done on earth anyway? There were things to do in heaven, if Dean liked it or not. And Cas was the one who volunteered for that job. Took it on, which – same freaking difference. 

~+~  
Dean wakes up at seven from Monday to Friday (at nine on the weekends) and looks over at Lisa and doesn't think much of anything. He just feels. This is his life now and it's a good life and he loves her. He didn't think, back when she was only a one- night-stand, a notch in his bedpost, (not that he ever could call a bed his own before, not since the day of the fire and Dad taking them, ripping them away from all the rules of humanity), that she would turn out to be the one. On the other hand, he didn't even dream about having a thing for an angel either, but that – well, that isn't something he thinks about much anymore. Too much to do. Lisa and work and Ben. Like Sid said, he is practically respectable. He wonders sometimes when he's sitting in the living room and the TV is on, Ben mugging around and Lisa doing stuff in the kitchen or mugging around with Ben too, if this is what his mom, what Mary, wanted for them. She certainly wanted it for herself at some point. Had it too for a short time.  
Dean isn't going further than that. It leads to unpleasant questions, to feelings he'll rather not explore. 

 

~+~  
He remembers the day he showed up at her doorstep. All messed up and grieving and still trying to do what he promised Sam he'll do.  
She looked beautiful. She looked like an angel. She looked like someone who could save people. Someone who could save him. 

It doesn't mean that she really can, just because something looks like something, it doesn't mean it is that said something. He of all people knows that.

“Hey, Lisa.” 

“Oh, thank god. Are you all right?” He wasn't, was the thing, he wasn't, but couldn't tell her that. Didn't want to tell her the truth. 

“Yeah. Uh, if it's not too late, I... think I'd like to take you up on that beer.” And he didn't have much hope for it either, because she was way too good for him and he knew it. 

“It's never too late. It's okay. It's gonna be okay,” she said, letting him in into her life, Ben's life, their life and home and he wanted so desperately to believe every word she just said. So he followed her and then he stayed, because she didn't make him leave, because she wanted him there.  
Because he wanted to be with her too. 

 

~2~  
Dean isn't stupid. He has instincts and mechanisms that are so deep in his blood he couldn't ever wash them out if he tried. And he isn't trying. He needs this, he knows it. It doesn't matter that he's living an apple pie life like Sam made him promise.  
It shouldn't be a surprise that something is coming after him. Something is always coming. This year, this one year with Lisa and Ben was like a vacation, like taking a deep breath before shit hits the fan and it seems – well, it seems things are changing for the worst again.  
Dean wants to punch something. Really fucking hard. 

~+~  
It doesn't help that they don't know shit. It doesn't help that Sam is back a fucking year and that he didn't try to contact Dean until he got fucking poisoned. That he hooked up with people who aren't – well, they are family, but they don't know Sam like Dean does. 

~+~  
If there is one safe place on the whole freaking planet it's Bobby's. That's where they geared up for the apocalypse, that's where they trapped demons, and Sam. That's where Cas- Dean can't be thinking about Castiel now or what kind of madness they jumped into because the world was fucking ending.  
As soon as Sam enters Dean knows. He knows and he is fucking pissed off. 

“You knew? You knew Sam was alive.” 

“Yeah.” 

“How long?” 

“Look -” Bobby tries, but Dean isn't fucking interested is the thing. He was expecting better from the person who freaking raised him, them, when Dad was off somewhere hunting things and trying not to get killed. 

“How long?!” he says louder. 

“All year,” Bobby admits, he isn't quite able to look Dean in the eyes and that in itself speaks freaking volumes, he thinks. 

“Oh, you got to be kidding me.” 

“And I'd do it again.” Bobby sounds determined.

“Why?!” Because fucking why. 

“Because you got out, Dean! You walked away from the life. And I was so damn grateful, you got no idea,” Bobby answers. There's something stubborn in his voice. Something that is a tender worry for them, something Dean doesn't want to hear. Something he doesn't want to hear now. 

“Do you have any clue what walking away meant for me?” Everything. Losing everything, starting over and not knowing who he was, because all his life he was Sam's older brother. His brother's keeper. 

“Yeah - a woman and a kid and not getting your guts ripped out at age 30. That's what it meant.” Bobby crosses his arms over his chest. It's his no-nonsense voice and posture. 

“That woman and that kid - I went to them because you asked me to.” Here he looks at Sam. Who didn't say a freaking word the whole time. 

“Good. “

“Good for who? I showed up on their doorstep half out of my head with grief. God knows why they even let me in. I drank too much. I had nightmares. I looked everywhere. I collected hundreds of books, trying to find anything to bust you out.” Another glance at Sam. 

“You promised you'd leave it alone,” Sam answers and his voice is too even, Dean thinks.  
Like hell he would. In his place Sam would've done the same. Hell, in his place Sam did the freaking same. 

“Of course I didn't leave it alone! Sue me! A damn year? You couldn't put me out of my misery?” 

“Look, I get it wasn't easy. But that's life! And it's as close to happiness as I've ever seen a hunter get. It ain't like I wanted to lie to you, son. But you were out, Dean,” Bobby says, looking at him. Dean takes a deep breath. All the freaking things they do for each other. All the lies and didn't they do enough already? 

“Do I look 'out' to you?” he asks, because if it's coming down to it, that is the question and everyone in this room knows the answer.  
This will never be over. Never, because not even death is putting an end to this shit, he thinks bitterly. 

~+~  
Dean has to take responsibility for his actions. He was raised that way. Dad hammered it into his head at a young age. It was never forgotten.  
He waits for her at the end of the stairs. A quiet moment at Bobby's with the woman he loves, and isn't it ironic that the day he makes them meet, he's going to break up with her? 

“How's he doing?” he asks. 

“He's okay. How are you?” She looks concerned and a part of him still thinks she could save him. Or she could die trying, and that's okay for Sam and him, that's what they do, but he doesn't want that for Lisa or Ben. 

“Look, I know Bobby's a little crotchety, but he's great. He's gonna look after you guys. Me and Sam, we're gonna head out.” 

“For how long?” She sits down on the stairs, looking up at him. 

“I'm so sorry, Lisa.” 

“For what?” She asks, like she really doesn't know. 

“Those things were coming for me. And I should've known.” 

“How could you know a monster was gonna show up?” 

He wonders if she only says it to make him feel better. “I should've known. I should've known that if I stayed with you that something would come, because something always does. But I was stupid and reckless and...” he stops, he can't say it, hopes she does know, “You can't outrun your past,” he finishes. 

“You're saying goodbye,” she realizes. 

Jesus, he used to be so much better at breaking up with woman. He sits down next to her. Soaking up her body heat. “I'm saying I'm sorry... For everything. Everything.” 

“You're an idiot. I mean, I know it wasn't greeting-card perfect, but we were in it together.” 

“I was a wreck half the time,” he throws in. 

“Yeah, well, the guy that basically just saved the world shows up at your door, you expect him to have a couple of issues. And you're always so amazing with Ben. You know what I wanted, more than anything was a guy that Ben could look up to,” she says, “like a dad. So, you're saying it's all bad, Dean? 'Cause it was the best year of my life.”  
And what can he say to that?  
She isn't going to give up on him yet. Maybe he shouldn't give up on them either. 

~+~  
“You, uh, you coming with me?” Sam asks after the job is done.  
There will be always forces to pull him in different directions. The only thing is to trust his guts and his guts are telling him- 

“No. No, I'm going back for Lisa and Ben.” 

“I thought you said -” 

Dean nods, interrupts: “I did. I changed my mind.” 

“Look, I practically shoved you at them.” 

“That's a funny way to put it, but alright,” he answers, waiting his brother out. 

“I'm just saying, I really wanted that for you. And when I told you to go, I-I thought... You could have it, you know? But now I'm not so sure. I mean, you got to consider the fact that you'll be putting them in danger if you go back.” 

“So, what, it's better to leave them alone, unprotected, and then they're not in danger? I did this to them. I made them vulnerable the moment I knocked on their door, and I can't undo that. But what I can do is go with the best option,” he believes it too. As long as Ben and Lisa are going to put up with this crap, put up with him, he's going to stay. 

“I hear you. I guess I just, wish you were coming, that's all.” 

“Why?” 

“Don't be stupid,” Sam answers. 

“No, I mean it. I mean, you know plenty of good hunters. I'm rusty. I did something seriously stupid going out there. I almost got us both killed.” Facing up to this shit, he thinks, maybe he can only do that with Sam. 

“And that's exactly why I want you.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You just went. You didn't hesitate. Because you care, and that's who you are. Me? I wouldn't even think to try.” 

“Yes, you would.” Between the two of them Sam's always been the one with the bleeding heart. 

“No, Dean. I'm telling you, it's just better with you around. That's all.”

And the way how he says it, Dean thinks, the way. It makes a tinny bell ring in the back of his mind. It's not loud enough to do anything about it and Sam's just freshly out of Hell and Dean remembers everything he's done too. It never goes away. His fingers are itching to hug Sam, but he doesn't. He's sure this wasn't the last thing he's seen of his brother.  
After all that's not how they work. 

 

~3~  
Moving isn't much fun for Ben, but Lisa just rolls with it. The thing is that Dean is being paranoid and he would like to just lock them up or leave them with Bobby when he isn't there, so no one can get to them.  
Lisa of course, because she knows him, because she is smart, calls him on his bullshit. 

“What happened? Ben's been locked in his room for hours. Says you yelled at him. What did he do?” 

“Nothing,” he answers. It wasn't Ben's fault. Dean just doesn't want this life for Ben, for Lisa. He doesn't want Ben to know how to shoot things that go bump in the night at an age- well, to be honest he doesn't want him to know ever. 

“What did you do?” she asks. 

“He got into my tools. I shouldn't have got mad,” he admits. He doesn't want to be that kind of father. He doesn't want to be Dad. 

“You want to talk about this?” 

“About?” 

Lisa gives him a look. She isn't buying whatever he's trying to sell her. “Yelling at Ben? Keeping us in the house?” 

“I'm trying to keep us safe, here.” 

She sighs, or breathes out, it's kind of the same sound. “I'm not arguing, okay. You're the expert. I'm just asking. You said that you and your brother killed whatever was after us. And then we moved just to be sure! So what is it, Dean? A monster? Or monsters in general?” 

“I don't know. Something might come,” he says, which is pretty fucking vague and he knows it. Realizes he's going a bit insane here. He just can't stop. He cares for them so much. And he can't turn back time to assure their safety again. 

“What?” 

Something, anything. It might be just around the corner waiting. “I don't know, I can't predict what's going to come after me.” But he's sure something will. That is something she doesn't get, he thinks. 

“Well, I'm going to need some parameters. We have to live our lives here. I mean, at some point I have to work. Ben has school!” 

“But if something happens on my watch...” he tries, she cuts him off. 

“I know you're trying to protect us, but you're kind of scaring me a little, too.”  
He doesn't know how to answer her. Sometimes he scares himself too. He knows she makes him better, but he isn't so sure anymore that he can do the same for her and Ben. 

~+~  
There is no way in hell he's going on a job involving creepy baby kidnapping creeps and leaving Lisa unprotected. And the best way to make sure she's safe is to make her able to protect herself and Ben. He makes her load and unload the freaking thing a thousand times. 

“I've got it. We've been over this.” 

“Humor me,” he answers, nodding in the gun's direction. 

She gives him a look, but does as he says. “Load clip. Pull slide. Safety off. Safety on.” 

“And salt the windows and the doors,” he says again. 

“Of course,” she replies. 

“Maybe I shouldn't go.” 

“It's okay. You want to go, so go,” she answers, putting the gun away. 

“You know what, Sam can handle this.” Sam can and he can stay here and look after the woman he's living with and Ben. 

“Dean, no offence, but if you don't walk out that door, I'm going to shoot you,” she says. 

Dean grabs his duffle bag and zips it closed before throwing the strap over his shoulder.  
“I bet you're missing your ex right about now. The uh, the boring one?,” he says. 

“God, shut up. Just be careful, okay?” 

He nods and then kisses her with all he has to tell her without telling her all the things, all the things between them and how much she means. He thinks she knows, but it's okay to make sure from time to time. He lets go of her and walks out.  
He'll be back as soon as he can and in the meantime she'll be fine. 

~+~  
It's funny, Dean thinks, as he looks at Bobby John, that his first thought as they had to come up with a name on the spot was Bobby, but that Sam's was John, like their father.He puts the baby down and it falls asleep nearly the second his head touches the pillow. 

“Huh,” Sam says. 

“What?” It never is very good when Sam says 'huh', it's like Velma saying 'Jinkies!'. 

“You're just, uh, actually, not awful at that.” 

“Dude, I'm barely keeping that thing alive,” Dean says. 

“No, no, no, seriously. You've got a whole Dr. Huxtable vibe coming off of you. You're like... father material.” Sam sounds surprised by it. Dean thinks he really shouldn't. He raised Sam with Bobby's help, and he thinks Sam turned out alright. Most of the time he thinks that, that is. 

“Yeah, well I kind of had to be lately, you know. Sink or swim, right?” He shrugs. 

“You mean with Ben,” Sam says and there's something in his voice Dean doesn't like. He lets it slide. 

“Yeah, I mean Ben. I mean, I know he's not my kid, but I don't know, I'm starting to feel like yeah, he is. Then I think about the way we grew up, I don't know, I kind of feel like I have a chance to do something different with Ben, you know?” He didn't have that chance with Sam. 

“You sure about that?” 

“What do you mean?” he gives back a bit too sharp. 

“Look, you clearly care about the kid-” 

Dean cuts him off. “But?” 

“But moving them around? Keeping them on lockdown? I mean, you do have them on lockdown, right? How is any of that different from how we were raised?” 

“So you're saying...” he stops and starts again, because he has no idea where he was going with that anyway. “I'm not shoving anybody into this life, okay? This is temporary,” he settles on. 

“Dad always said it was temporary, Dean. He said it for 22 years. Look, I get it. You want to watch out for them. That's great. I'm just asking, how do you do that and not turn into Dad?”  
And it's a fucking good question Dean thinks. He doesn't like it, though. He has no answer to it. Yet, he thinks. Maybe he can make it work, maybe they can make it work together.  
Dean stays quiet and Sam looks at the papers on the table in front of him again. 

~+~  
Great Dean thinks, with a look at Bobby John. He kinda likes the little guy, is the thing. He isn't a thing, okay, he is a thing, but it's not – oh hell he has no idea where he’s going with this. Sam interrupts his thoughts and he's grateful for it. 

“I didn't even know they had babies. I thought they were just freaks of nature, like X-Men style.” 

“You learn something new everyday, huh?” 

“I've never seen a baby monster before,” Sam muses. 

“Of course it's not really a monster. I mean, it's still just a baby. It's not its fault its dad's a shifter,“ Dean says, he doesn't like where Sam's thoughts are going. He doesn't like it at all. He misses the times when things used to be black and white, good and evil, humans and monsters. 

“Right, but it's a shifter, too,” Sam points out, because he's just that kind of pain in the ass. 

“Still doesn't change the fact that we've got to look after this thing. I mean, what the hell are we going to do with it? We can't actually drop it off at an orphanage. They might get upset when it turns Asian.” 

“Samuel.” 

“What?” 

“Samuel. He'll know what to do.” 

“You want to bring it to a bunch of hunters?” Dean asks. Sam has to be fucking crazy for even suggesting it. 

“Not just hunters, Dean. They're our family.” 

It's beyond Dean how Sam can even think that. They aren't family, they are just a bunch of strangers who share the same freaking last name. “We don't know them.” 

“I do. Not every hunter is a headcase. I mean, Samuel is actually a lot like you.” 

“I'm a freaking headcase,” Dean says. 

“Well, pitch a better idea then.” Thing is he doesn't have one right now and they are running out of time so he stays silent. “Great! Samuel it is.”

~+~  
He should've said Bobby, he thinks after the whole clusterfuck is over. Bobby's would've been a safe place to ride it out. On the plus side he is glad that Christian isn't fucking going to raise an innocent shifter kid to be a hunter and kill his own kind, on the other hand: he's back with his shifter family. And they have an Alpha and Dean is freaking pissed off that they kept him in the dark all the time. He is so done with this shit.  
And the worst thing is that he isn't sure anymore he can trust Sam. Sam might have used the baby as bait and the Sam he knows, the Sam he knew, wouldn't ever have done something like that. Shifter kid or not. Something is rotten in Sam-town. 

 

~4~  
He wakes up in the Impala and needs a moment to orient himself. He misses Lisa, suddenly, but it passes, because everything always does. She said she's willing to try, said he doesn't want to be with them, that he needs to be out here, hunting things, too. And it's true, he is going to try. He is going to hunt and he's going to go home to her and try to have a life besides bloody monster parts. Cops keep their jobs out of their homes, he can do that.  
It's worth a shot. It's worth more than that, to be honest. She is worth it. 

~+~  
He meets up with Sam, who is becoming pretty bossy and while Sam is looking through crap about the new case he dug up, Dean takes the call from Ben. 

“Ben...” he says, “I know you're lying. Because I lie professionally, that's how. Now tell your mom that you broke the damn thing and take it like a man. Okay? Ok-- okay.” He hangs up and Sam gives him a look. One of the: I can't believe this looks. 

“Wow.” 

“What?” Dean's on the freaking defensive far too much these days with Sam. 

“You - molding the minds of tomorrow. Who knew?”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“How'd it go?” Sam asks. 

“With?”

“You and Lisa. How'd she take it when you bailed?”

Dean doesn't like how Sam puts it, but whatever. Lately he doesn't like a lot of stuff. “Shockingly cool, actually.”

“Better for everybody,” Sam says. 

“Yeah, I suppose,” Dean answers, but it's not. Sam has to know that. “Still driving the plastic piece of crap, huh?”

“What's your mileage, again?” Sam shoots back.

“Shut up.”

~+~  
Dean has to admit he doesn't have a better theory either. He might just go with the avenging angel thing here. After all, the cops in question were dirty and they got what they had coming to them, but still there is something out there, or someone who is taking matters in their own hands and it's a heavenly problem, so. 

Dean opens a beer and says: “We should call Cas.” It's the only logical move at this stage of the game and he really thinks he can handle it now too. 

“You're kidding, right?” Sam answers, scoffing. “Dean, I tried. It was the first and second and third thing I did, soon as I got topside. Son of a bitch won't answer the phone.”

Dean sits down on the bed and looks at Sam. He knows things Sam doesn't. “Well, let's give it a shot. Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here.” Maybe this will get his attention, Dean remembers well how Castiel liked, maybe still likes, to watch him sleep. 

“You're an idiot,” Sam says. 

“Stay positive,” Dean answers with a grin. He is pretty sure Castiel will answer him. 

“Oh, I am positive,” Sam says and every word is dripping with sarcasm. 

“Come on, Cas! Don't be a dick. We got ourselves a... plague-like situation down here, and... do you...do you copy?” he asks, something like hopeful anger creeping into his voice. 

“Like I said... “ Sam says, “son of a bitch doesn't answer-.” He stops suddenly. “He's right behind me, isn't he?”  
He fucking is, Dean thinks. 

“Hello,” Castiel says and Dean maybe wants to kiss him. Because here they are again in a crappy hotel room and he didn't see a freaking feather of Cas' in over a year. He missed the nerdy angel. He missed his nerdy angel. 

“Hello?” Sam asks, unbelievingly. 

“Y-yes.” There is a slightly unsure note in his voice. Dean missed that too.

“Hello. Hello?” Sam says mockingly and a bit angrily maybe. Dean finds the whole thing hilarious. 

“Uh, that is still the term?” Cas asks. 

“I spent all that time trying to get through to you. Dean calls once, and now it's 'Hello'?!” Sam asks again. It doesn't get less funny, Dean thinks.

“Yes,” Castiel says.

“So, what, you - you like him better or something?” Sam asks, scoffing.  
Dean sits up a bit straighter. 

“Dean and I do share a more profound bond,” Castiel says and then turns to Dean: “I wasn't going mention it.”  
Dean feels something tender creeping up inside him. Fuck, but he really did miss Castiel, how he just said things, how everything was new to him, how his lips felt – but he isn't going to go there. Even if Castiel admitting to liking him more brings all of the things back he shared with Cas, what they shared in Bobby's backyard and behind holes in the wall bars and crappy motel-rooms. Maybe Castiel feels the same, maybe he can see what Dean is thinking of. He shakes it off.

“Cas, I think what he's trying to say is that... he went to Hell for us. I mean, he really took one for the team. You remember that? And then he comes back without a clue, and you can't take five friggin' minutes to give him some answers?”

“If I had any answers, I might have responded. But I don't know, Sam. We have no idea who brought you back from the cage... or why,” he answers strongly; if he didn't know better, he would have said Cas was frustrated, or pissed off, but Cas didn't really do pissed off. 

“So... it wasn't God?” Sam asks and he sounds a bit disappointed to Dean. 

“No one's even seen God. The whole thing remains mysterious,” Castiel answers calmly. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Sam asks again. 

“What part of 'I don't know' escapes your understanding?” There is definitely a note of frustration in his voice, Dean thinks. 

“Cas, look, if Sam calls, you answer. Okay? You wing your ass down here, and you tell him, 'I don't know.' Just because we have some sort of a - a bond or whatever-” and maybe he didn't have to put it like that, maybe he didn't have to side with Sam because it used to be that way from the day Sam was born. Sam wasn't there when Dean needed someone, Lisa wasn't there either (truth is Lisa couldn't have handled it), but Cas was and Cas could and Cas did. And Dean knows he messed him up, knows he messed them up, but he can't bring himself to regret it – much.  
Castiel turns and looks at Dean, Dean doesn't like that look. Not one bit. He has to make it up to Cas later, somehow.

“You think I came because you called? I came because of this.” He walks over to the files spread out all over. 

“Oh, well, it's nice to know what matters,” Dean says, a bit pissed off himself now with Cas, because – just freaking because. Sometimes shit between them is too hard to handle.

“It does help one to focus,” Castiel answers calmly. There's so much freaking subtext here. Castiel is the master of subtext, if he wants to be. Dean wants to hit him or push him against the nearest wall and- no, he thinks, taking a breath. 

“Wait, so - so you and the Halo Patrol, you guys aren't the cause of these killings?” Sam breaks in. Good thing too, Dean thinks.

Castiel looks at Sam now and Dean can breathe again. “No. But they were committed with one of our weapons. There's only one thing that could have brought this into existence. You call it the Staff of Moses.”

“The Staff?” Sam asks. 

“It was used in a dominance display against the Egyptians, as I recall,” Castiel says, playing with a jar. 

Dean scoffs. “Yeah. That one made the papers.”

“B-but I thought the Staff turned, like, a - a river into blood, not one dude,” Sam says, which is an excellent objection. 

“The weapon isn't being used at full capacity. I think we can rule Moses out as a suspect,” Castiel answers. 

No shit, Dean thinks. “Okay, but... what is - what is Chuck Heston's disco stick doing down here, anyway? I mean, don't you guys put away your toys?”

“Before the apocalypse, Heaven may have been corrupt, but it was stable. The staff was safely contained,” he sighs and Dean thinks he looks worse for wear at the moment, like all of this is just too much and maybe he should've packed his things and gone to Cuba or something. “It's been chaos up there since the war ended. In that confusion, a number of... powerful weapons were... stolen,” he admits. 

“Wait, you - you're saying your nukes are loose?” Because, freaking fantastic. Couldn't be better. He has no time for this shit between Sam being funny, his grandfather being back from the dead and the Alphas coming out to play. And now heavenly weapons. Just to make his day. 

“Yeah, I'm afraid so. But you've stumbled onto one of them. We must find the weapon that did this.” He indicates the jar. “I need your help,” he adds. 

“That's rich. Really,” Sam scoffs. Dean gets that he thinks Cas has screwed them over, but there's shit going on in Heaven, obviously. So Dean is going to cut Castiel some slack.  
Castiel makes a noise that Dean remembers, a bit differently, yeah, but he remembers it.

“Sam, Dean, my 'people skills' are 'rusty',” he says making air-quotes with the words. “Pardon me, but I have spent the last 'year' as a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. But believe me, you do not want that weapon down here. Help me find it. Or more people will die.”

“All right. Okay. Well, if the angels didn't pull the trigger, then that brings us back to motive,” Dean says. 

“What?” Castiel does look calmer now. 

“Back to the case. Right now, we got three dead cops. Only thing linking them... is this,” Dean hands Sam the clippings of newspapers. "Father of slain suspect calls for investigation."  
It's as good a place to start as any he thinks. 

~+~  
There's definitely something wrong with Sam. He gets that Castiel doesn't have the luxury to play around, but that Sam just watches while a kid is basically being tortured, well, that isn't right. Dean's guts do all kinds of unpleasant things. 

~+~  
When shit is going down it's going down hard. Dean really doesn't know why the hepll he's still surprised by all the things that are just finding him. 

“It is simple: Raphael and his followers, they want him to rule Heaven. For me - and many others - the last thing we want is to let him take over. It would be catastrophic,” Castiel says eventually. 

“You're talking civil war,” Sam says. 

“Technically, yes. Which is why we have to find Balthazar and his weapons before Raphael does. Whoever has the weapons wins the war,” Castiel answers. It's always been like that, Dean thinks. Since the beginning of freaking time. Nothing ever changes and good men are dying left and right. 

“And what happens if Raphael wins? What - what does he want?” Dean asks while he watches Castiel pulling out the bag with the weapons. 

“What he's always wanted - to end the story the way it was written.”

“You mean the Apocalypse, the one that we derailed?”

“Yes. That one. Raphael wants to put it back on the rails,” Castiel says, getting out the holy water. 

“Why?” Dean wants to know, it might be a stupid question, but seriously, they stopped it once and they're going to do it again if they have to. Raphael has to know that. 

“I need myrrh,” Castiel says and disappears in the next second. . 

“Freakin' angels,” Dean mumbles just as Cas reappears behind him. He is drawing on the kitchen table with chalk now and Dean is watching his fingers. “Why does Raphael want to bring back all this crap?”

“He's a traditionalist,” Cas answers. 

“Cas, why didn't you tell us this?” Dean asks. 

“I was ashamed. I expected more from my brothers. I'm sorry. Now I need your blood.” He grabs Dean's hand and slices his palm. Dean doesn't even have five seconds to register what the hell is happening, it's the first time Cas touched him for over a year and it ends in pain. It should be a sign, he thinks. 

“Whoa, whoa! Hey! Ahh! Why don't you use your own?” he asks

“It wouldn't work. I'm not human,” Castiel answers and there is subtext here too, but Dean doesn't have the time. He never has the time, is the thing.  
Dean squeezes his hand shut, watches his blood drip into the bowl and Castiel adding myrrh and holy water before he intones. Sometimes it's just too easy to forget that Castiel isn't a human being. But he isn't and Dean needs to remember. 

~Interlude~  
When everything is over and Cas is gone, or they think he is, Sam is off somewhere to do something and Dean sits down on the hood of the Impala, opens a beer and - well, says a little prayer. He doesn't really think Cas will answer what with him fighting a civil war in Heaven. 

“Dean,” Cas says beside him and Dean nearly jumps out of his freaking skin. 

“Cas, for fuck's sake.” He puts the bottle of beer down on the ground and then looks at Castiel. 

“You called,” Cas says and then softer, “you prayed,” as if that makes a difference. Maybe it does. Dean isn't sure. He never was really good at the praying thing. His first prayer was more of a demand. This last one, this one was something else. 

“Guess I did,” he answers. 

Castiel sighs and leans against the car. Dean can nearly feel his body heat, Jimmy's body heat. “What do you want?” Castiel asks eventually. 

Dean doesn't have an answer. “I didn't think you would show up,” he says. 

“I did, I did before too. I always do even if I have other things, more important things to do.” 

Dean wants to grab his hand and pull him closer and maybe just feel for a bit in the darkness of the night. Pretend they're still the people they were a year and some back.  
“You didn't say goodbye,” Dean says. He isn't sure whether he means today or a year ago. 

“Because I knew I would be back,” Cas answers. “Both times,” he adds.

Dean has no guide for this. He never was in a monogamous relationship before Lisa, or maybe the thing with Cas, maybe that was a first try, but he was so messed up back then from all the things he's done and seen. Maybe this thing has a whole new set of rules, maybe now that he doesn't really live with Lisa and Ben anymore, maybe it's okay to be, to do stuff with Cas. He shakes his head. He doesn't know. He doesn't know how to play that game anymore. He was out of it too long maybe. 

“Well, I didn't,” he shoots back. He's on the defensive again, because maybe he wouldn't have started anything with Lisa if Cas had stayed, maybe Cas is the one, because he's stronger and he doesn't have to worry all the freaking time about Cas being eaten by things that go bump in the night. He knows it's bullshit, he would still worry, because he cares. 

“It's not my fault. They needed me, they needed someone and I was there. I fought beside you to stop the apocalypse and you-” Castiel cuts himself off and it's all too human for Dean to go unnoticed. 

“I what?” 

“You,” Castiel says, a bit too softly, a bit too raw, looking at Dean and Dean can't look away. Couldn't if his freaking life would depend on it. A part of him is glad that isn't the case. “You,” Castiel repeats, making sure he has all of Dean's attention and he does, god help Dean, he does, “didn't ask me to stay.” 

“I didn't,” Dean admits. Would you have stayed, he wonders in the privacy of his head. 

“And now we'll never know,” Castiel says. 

So, Dean thinks, Castiel doesn't know either, doesn't have an answer to this, like Dean doesn't. Just another missed opportunity – lost in time, in blood and war. And orphan of faith.  
“I-” shouldn't have called, he thinks, but even if it's maybe the right thing to say, it isn't the truth and he's so sick of lying and being lied to. “Am glad you answered my prayer,” he settles on. 

“I'll always answer your prayers if I can make it, however unorthodox they might be,” Castiel says and Dean laughs.  
He can't help it and he loves to see the little smile on Cas' face that means he's glad he made Dean happy even if only for a moment. He bumps his arm against Cas' and soaks up his heat and stays there as long as Castiel lets him, has the time to spend down here with Dean on the hood of his car in the middle of the night.  
This is enough for now. He can't have more right now anyway. Every second they are here people are in danger, every second is a stolen one. Maybe even costs lives, but Dean thinks, he deserves it, they deserve a pause to breathe before the storm will hit and Dean knows it will hit.  
It always does. 

 

~5~  
Despite what Samuel and Sam think, Dean is trying to make things work with Lisa and Ben. This is the closest to a family life he's ever going to get and he knows it. He knows all the risks and he knows that he wouldn't try for anyone else.  
Dean is pretty freaking sure she wouldn't try for anyone else either. He is determined to not take shit home with him when he's going to visit, but sometimes it's easier said than done. 

~+~  
There are worse things than dying. Dean knows that from freaking experience. Being torn to shreds was by no means fun, but being tortured for years in hell and then breaking down and doing all these things he's done, that was worse. That was definitely worse than dying. Becoming a vampire is in the top five on his greatest hits list of 'things that are worse than death'. And it's kind of sad and messed up that he even has such a list. No matter that it only exists in his head.  
Realizing that he is becoming a vampire in a crappy motel room, well, let's say it doesn't make things better. And everything is making him crazy. The noises, Sam's freaking heartbeat. 

“Dean...you should sit down...” Sam says. 

“YOU sit down.” He's sitting on the edge of a bed in a freaking hotel and his head is going to explode and Sam tells him to sit down and what? What? He's going to die because some stupid vamp got to him. “Of all the ways to die, I never thought I'd be going out like this,” he says a bit more in control now.

“Dean, nobody is 'going out'.” 

He ignores Sam. “It's THAT...” Freaking noise. He rips out the clock's cord and suddenly it's so much less noisy in the room, in his head. In his freaking blood, or whatever. “Samuel is gonna kill me when he gets here,” he adds. He's pretty sure of it too. If he were Samuel, he would do it. Maybe he should be glad that Sam doesn't have to put him out of his misery. 

“No, Dean, he's not!” Sam says. Which is predictable. If it were Sam Dean would fight for him too. Hell, Dead did fight for him. All his life. 

“Yes he is, 'cause I'm gonna ask him to because you won't do it.” 

“Okay, just hold on a second-” 

Dean cuts him off. No point in talking about it. “For what, huh? Look at me!” 

“We can figure this out!” 

“How?!” Sam stays quiet. Dean can hear his heartbeat again and it's the only thing if he concentrates on it enough and the funny thing is, it's steady, as if nothing unusual is happening at all. “Why aren't you freaked out?” 

“Of course I am!” Sam says. 

“Really? ‘Cause I can hear your heartbeat, and it's pretty damned steady,” Dean answers. He wonders if he would have such a steady heartbeat in a situation like this, probably not. Maybe it's a good thing he can't hear his own. 

“That's 'cause I'm...I'm TRYING to remain calm. Dean, look - Samuel will know what to do.” 

Dean isn't so sure. Hell, Samuel might have some aces up his sleeve, but there's no cure for vampirism Dean has heard of. “C'mon, man, I'm a monster, okay? This is NOT a problem that you spit-ball. We gotta deal with this before I hurt somebody.” When it comes down to it, that's all that matters. There is more silence from Sam and Dean buries his head in his hands again. This shit is going to kill him before Samuel can and maybe that's a good thing too. 

“How's it feel?” Sam asks eventually. 

What the fuck, Dean thinks. “NOW? Now you wanna talk about my feelings?” 

“No, I mean...physically.” 

“How do you THINK it feels? Not good!” Dean answers a bit too sharply maybe, but what the all loving fuck? He needs to get away from Sam and his all too steady heartbeat for a bit. He gets up and goes over to the bathroom. 

“Where you going?” 

“Bathroom, okay? News flash, Mr. Wizard : vampires pee!” he answers, slamming the door behind him. He has a reflection too, he finds out pretty soon. His fangs look evil and he wants to smash shit into pieces, but – there are things he needs to do before Samuel can finish him off. He splashes some water in his face, but it doesn't help, because this stuff never really helps anyway. He has no idea why people do that in the first place.  
Sam will be so pissed, he thinks in the split second before the decision is made. He needs to see Lisa and Ben before he's a monster. He needs to say goodbye first.  
Because no matter what he likes to tell himself, what he liked to tell himself when Cas left without a freaking word, it matters. Saying goodbye to the people you love and have to leave behind.  
It matters. 

~+~  
He's being a creep and he knows he's being a creep, but the thing is: she just looks so peaceful like this and maybe there's something to this whole watching her sleep thing after all. Maybe the fascination can only be understood by supernatural beings (like Cas). Or maybe he's turning into a sappy vampire from a bad written YA novel.

“Dean.” She blinks awake and – he has never seen anything more adorable. 

“Hey,” he says. 

She turns the night-lamp on and it's blinding. He can hear her heartbeat like he could with Sam.  
“Hey. I wasn't expecting you for a couple of days.” 

The sound of her heart is really distracting. “Yeah, yeah... I wanted to see you.” He gets out, sitting down on the bed beside her. 

“What's up? Are you okay?” she asks, she sounds concerned, but he would be too. She has good instincts he thinks. 

“Listen...” 

“What's going on?” 

“It doesn't matter. But I need you to know. You and Ben...just, uh... Thanks. Okay? For everything,” he says. God he's just so freaking crappy at this feelings stuff.  
She slides closer to him and her heartbeat quickens. It's almost like he can feel it inside him. 

“Dean, you're scaring me.” 

She's too close and he can smell her blood and this is all so messed up and-  
“Oh, God, I'm Pattinson,” he says. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. I...I gotta go.” He needs to get out of here and fast. This was a spectacularly stupid idea. What was he even thinking? He should have sent her a text or called. Now he's going to hurt her, because he's a monster. 

“No, you can't just show up here like this and -” 

He cuts her off. “Believe me, I wish it was different.” 

“Just stop, and explain to me what's going on out there,” she says. He can hear the note of frustration in her voice. 

“Lisa, I can't bring this crap home to you.” 

“You're talking about your work?” 

“I'm talking about my LIFE. It's ugly and it's violent, and I'm gonna die – soon.” There, he thinks, it's out there and he said it and he wishes, he didn't. 

“Just tell me. Just tell me what the hell is going on.” 

And she's so close and he can't. Her scent and her skin and the blood rushing in her veins, he can hear her heartbeat and how it spikes up and all he wants to do it kiss her and lick her throat and bite that pretty skin and drink her dry. He presses her against the wall and – just a sip he thinks just- he lets go and steps back nearly shaking with the desire to just rip her open. 

“Dean?” And she sounds frightened? now. He never wanted that. 

“I gotta go.” 

~+~  
There are worse things than death he thinks. Pushing Ben, hurting Ben, just made it to Number One on that not so very short list. 

~+~  
Sometimes he thinks it's not worth it, all of it. It's not worth surviving all of the shit he has to deal with every freaking day of his life.  
Sometimes he wonders what is wrong with him, on other days he wonders what the hell is wrong with Sam. Again. 

~+~  
Truth is, he doesn't think he can patch up things with Lisa again. He hurt her son, the only person in the world she would do anything for and he gets it.  
He was playing house and he should've known that it wouldn't last. The second he laid his eyes on Sam he should have packed his stuff and left her to live a life where he wasn't a part of it.  
Samuel warned him.  
But he just wanted it so badly. Wanted to make it work for her and Ben and Sam.  
He shuts the phone. He can't blame her. He wouldn't pick up either. 

 

_II. Lost Souls_

~1~  
Castiel could never really help himself. Or maybe that's a big fat lie, he could never help himself when it came to Dean. Since the first time they met, since the time Dean tried to kill him, since that day Dean had Castiel fascinated and he knew it.  
He tried to get away from it. He tried to be a proper Angel of the Lord, whatever that meant now, but it didn't work. He was corrupted.  
He is corrupted and there is no way out, no way back to the time when Dean wasn't such a big part of Castiel's life. 

~+~  
“Castiel? Hello? Possible loose nuke down here, angelic weapon. Kinda your department. You hear that, Cas?” Dean says, draining his glass. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel answers. He doesn't know what else to say. There are a million things, a million things he has to care about, should care about more, but then there are always a million things and this is not the time and it's not the place either. 

“Are you kidding me? I have been on red alert about Sam, and you come for some stupid horn?!” Dean is pissed and Castiel can understand it, but he can't help Dean.

“You asked me to be here, and I came.”

“I - I've been asking you to be here for days, you dick!” 

“I didn't come about Sam because I have nothing to offer about Sam,” Castiel replies. Sometimes it's so hard to be there for Dean and then all Dean is willing to talk about is Sam. And it always was Sam and it always will be Sam. 

“Well, that's great, because for all we know, he's just gift wrap for Lucifer,” Dean answers. 

“No, he's... he's not Lucifer,” Castiel says, because if there is something he knows and can share, well it's that. He grabs the bottle of whisky, not that he can get drunk, but God, he wishes right now he could. 

“And how do you know that?” Dean wants to know. 

“If Lucifer escaped the cage, we'd feel it,” he says, refilling Dean's glass. Sometimes it's easier to deal with Dean when he's drunk. Castiel remembers the taste of whisky in his mouth when they kissed. He remembers because he can never forget. These days it's more like a curse than a blessing.

“What is wrong with him?”

“I don't know, Dean. I'm sorry,” Castiel answers. And it's a lie. It's all a lie, but he just wants to hold onto it a bit longer. 

Dean sighs, it's so soft it would barely steer up a feather. “What happened to you, Cas? You used to be human, or at least like one.”

“I'm at war. Certain... regrettable things are now required of me.” That's one way of putting it, he thinks and it's a bitter taste in his mouth. All these lies. 

“And Gabriel's Horn of Truth? That's a real thing?”

“You've seen it?” Castiel asks, glad that they're changing the subject. 

“We think it's in town. Something's forcing people-”  
If it's the Horn, he can just check it out real quick and be right back. “Oh, well, you're welcome!” he hears Dean yelling as he disappears. 

It's not the Horn. “It isn't the Horn of Truth,” he says, reappearing. That much he can do for Dean. After everything he's screwed up. 

“What are you talking about? You were gone for like two seconds. Where did you look?” Dean asks. 

“Everywhere.”

“Right. Well, nice seeing you, anyway,” Dean says. 

“Dean.” He feels helpless. He wants to make this right, but he has no way of making this right and he knows it. There are all these things, all these things he can't tell Dean. And the things he doesn't want to tell Dean. 

“What?”

“About your brother. I... I don't know what's wrong with him, but I do want to help. I'll make inquiries.” It's the least he can say. He needs to go, he needs to be out of here, so he disappears.  
Leaving Dean with his whisky and his worries about his brother. 

~+~  
Castiel remembers when things were different. He remembers when he didn't have to lie to win a war. He remembers when things between them were easier.  
He remembers dying.  
He remembers coming back. Remembers Dean's warmth. The wonder in his eyes. 

“Cas, you're alive?” Dean asked. 

“I'm better than that,” he said. And the truth was, that he was better than not dead. He was feeling alive, before everything went to hell. 

“Cas, are you god?” Dean had asked and Castiel, he was so full of something and now he thinks it was happiness. 

“That's a nice compliment. But no. Although, I do believe he brought me back. New and improved,” he answered and he believed it too. 

He doesn't believe it anymore. He was brought back and he's pretty sure it was by God too, but he doesn't think he is improved.  
But he will be. Everything will be alright again. 

~+~  
Hotel rooms at night bring a whole lot of memories with them, Castiel thinks. 

“You're right. He looks terrible,” Castiel says with a look at Sam. Sam looks like he had an encounter with a train. “You did this?” he asks Dean. 

“Cas? What's -” Sam tries and then as he realises he's bound. “Let me go.” 

“Has he been feverish?” Castiel asks. 

“Have you?” 

“No. Why?” Sam asks. 

“Is he speaking in tongues?” Castiel wants to know and then realizing Sam is right there and able to answer all his questions; “Are you speaking in tongues?” 

“No. What are you... Are you diagnosing me?” Sam asks, which is exactly what Castiel is doing and he has a bad feeling about this. He’s has a bad feeling about Sam since the day he raised him from the cage. Since he saw Sam walk away from Dean and the light and into the night. To hunt things, like there wasn't anything left worth living for. He couldn't bring himself to stop and check back then, it was easier to not know. He wasn't given the luxury now. This here was a moment of truth that he avoided for far too long. 

“You better hope he can,” Dean throws in. 

“You really think that this is -” Sam begins, but Dean cuts him off and not too kindly. 

“What, you think that there's a clinic out there for people who just pop out of hell? Wrong. He asks, you answer! Then you shut your hole. You got it?”

“How much do you sleep?” Castiel wants to know. He has to get this right. 

“I don't.” 

“At all?” Dean asks unbelievingly. 

“Not since I got back.” 

“And it never occurred to you that there might be something off about that?!” Dean says. 

“Of course it did, Dean. I-I just never told you,” Sam answers. 

“What?” 

“Sam... What are you feeling now?” Castiel asks, looking at him closely.  
Sam scoffs at them. Maybe at Dean, maybe at Castiel. One good thing is that he doesn't remember that it was Castiel who raised him from the pit. “I feel like my nose is broken.”

“No, that's a physical sensation. How do you feel?” Castiel clarifies. 

“Well, I think -”

“Feel.,” Castiel cuts in. 

“I...Don't know,” Sam answers and then probably noticing Castiel's worry. “What? Uh...” 

“This will be unpleasant.” He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to know. That is the simple truth. But it's not like he's going to back down on it now. 

“What -” 

Castiel cuts him off again. If he has to deal with this. If he has to do this and he has to, for Dean he has to do this, he'll rather do it now without further discussions. “Bite down on this. If there's some place that you find soothing, you should go there. In your mind.”  
He takes a deep breath and reaches into Sam's ribcage. He ignores the screams and the heavy breathing, the agony, the pain and then he tries to ignore for a second what is right there too. He did it wrong and he should have known, he shouldn't have even tried. He pulls his hand out as gently as he can. He can't look at Dean right now. 

“Did you find anything?” Dean asks. 

“No,” he says simply. He is sure that Dean doesn't understand, but he needs a few more seconds to process and come up with a plan. 

“So that's good news?” Dean asks. 

“I'm afraid not. Physically, he's perfectly healthy,” Castiel says. It's not a lie and it's a good thing, a relief that he can tell the truth for once. 

“Then what?”

“It's his soul. It's gone,” Castiel states. There's nothing else left to say. 

There is a moment of silence before Dean speaks again: “I'm s- I'm sorry. One more time, like I'm 5. What do you mean, he's got no -”

“Somehow, when Sam was resurrected, it was without his soul,” Castiel answers before Dean can finish the sentence. He doesn't want to be here with Sam, who doesn't have a soul because of him. Dean can never find out about this. 

“So, where is it?” Dean wants to know. 

“My guess is... Still in the cage with Michael and Lucifer.”

“So, is he even still Sam?”

“Well, you pose an interesting philosophical question,” Castiel answers and wishes he could get drunk. So badly. 

“Well, then, just get it back,” Dean says. 

He wishes by God that it was that easy, but it's not. He screwed that one up epically. “Dean.” He feels helpless again. He feels like he's bleeding. 

“Well, you pulled me out,” Dean says.

“It took several angels to rescue you, and you weren't nearly as well guarded. Sam's soul is in Lucifer's cage. There's a difference, a big difference. It's not possible,” he answers. He believes it too. He doesn't think he can even try without being torn to screeds. 

“Okay, well, there's got to be a way.”

“So, are you gonna untie me?” Sam asks. 

“No.”

“Sam, Dean... I have to get back,” he throws in. He needs to get away from them. He needs to get away from Dean. He needs- 

“You're leaving?” There is something in Dean's voice he doesn't like. There is something in Dean's voice that cuts him. Way too deep for something that isn't even a weapon. 

“I'm in the middle of a civil war.”

“You better tear the attic up, find something to help Sam,” Dean says. 

“Of course. Your problems always come first. I'll be in touch.” He vanishes. 

 

~2~  
He makes mistakes. He tries to do the right thing, but he keeps making mistakes and other people are paying for his mistakes. His friends are paying for his mistakes. It's not right, but he can't help it. There is a bigger picture here to see. There is civil war in heaven. He needs to stop the apocalypse again and he was so sure he could do it this time without involving Dean, but that didn't turn out like he planned. 

~+~  
The only good thing is that Sam is back to normal more or less and that he still can't remember who rescued him from Lucifer's cage. Even if he isn't sure anymore if it was a good thing to do. Probably not. 

~+~  
All the things he did are coming back to haunt him. To hunt him down. He can't not answer Dean's calls. He knows he should. He knows that Crowley is right. He is losing control of the situation.  
He just can't help himself and he never could. 

~+~  
The stench of death and blood isn't anything he doesn't know how to deal with. Still what Crowley is doing, it's not something he wishes to witness, but there is nothing he can do about it now anyway. You make your bed and you lie in it.

“Howdy, partner.” 

“What have you found?” 

“I've found a lot of things. For example...Eve's brain? Dead as a tinned kipper. And yet,” Crowley says, reaching inside Eve and pulling out a handful of eggs, “for some reason...She keeps laying eggs. Watch this,” he goes on. Crowley takes a poker and stabs Eve's brain. The vampire in the corner seizes violently. “Chocula here feels every tickle.” 

“What is that good for?”

“Apart from the obvious erotic value, you got me,” Crowley answers. 

“You said Eve could open the door to Purgatory,” Castiel states. He needs results and fast. The war is taking too long as it is. 

“Correct. I did. And I'm confident that she could have if she was still alive! Single best chance to get over the rainbow, and the Winchesters killed her!”

“It was unavoidable,” Castiel answers. Maybe it was. He needed to keep all this a secret from the brothers. He needed to keep it a secret from Dean. 

“You screwed up, Cas. You let the hounds mangle the pheasant, and now I am up to my elbows in it,” Crowley explodes. 

“What is your point?” And can everyone call him by his nickname now? He has bigger problems, but when this is over he's going to rip Crowley's tongue out. And he will enjoy it. 

“The point is...You're distracted, and that makes me nervous.”

“I am holding up my end.” He feels frustrated and tired. All too human. 

“Ah, yes. But is that all you're holding?” Crowley asks with a look. “ See...the stench of that Impala's all over your overcoat, angel.” He steps back. “I thought we'd agreed - no more nights out with the boys.” 

Some things he needs to keep to himself, but there is no hiding Dean's scent from Crowley. It's a dangerous game he's playing and he knows it. “I spoke with Dean. I needed to know what they know.“

“About what? About me, maybe? 'Cause I happen to have it on good authority that your two little pets are currently trying to hunt me down! Forgive me, but I think you might have a little conflict of interest here.”  
Crowley has a point of course, his interests are conflicted. He's still considering himself the Winchesters' guardian. After all...they taught him how to stand up. Everything he is now, is because he chose them over the angels. Because he chose Dean over God and God didn't mind. 

~+~  
And now he's spying on his friends. He's lying, sweeping evidence under the rug, so to speak and the hardest part of it all is watching Dean. Seeing how he still believes in Castiel. Even if every instinct in his body is telling him otherwise.  
He still thinks he can make this work. As long as they don't know. As long as Dean doesn't know and get mixed up in all this, he can still win the war, save the world and Heaven and defeat the devil he knows. 

 

~3~  
There is a point where you realize that everything is lost. Castiel has no idea when it came, he knows that he didn't leave the train-wreak about to happen fast enough. Soon enough. While he still could. 

~+~  
Saving people, that was what he was in for. He wanted to make the world a better place. A place where people like Lisa and Ben could live without needing to worry to be eaten alive by things that go bump in the night. He is still full of rigorous anger when he gets back to Crowley's lab. 

“You sent demons after them?”

“You kill my hunters. Why can't I kill yours?” 

“They're my friends,” Castiel answers. They still are. They still trust him. 

“You can't have friends, not anymore. I mean, my God. You're losing it!” Crowley explodes 

“I'm fine.” But it's a lie and they both know it. He is not fine. He is so far from fine, he can't even see fine from where he is anymore. 

“Yeah. You're the very picture of mental health. Come on. You don't think I know what this is all about?” Crowley asks. 

“Enlighten me.” 

“The big lie, “ Crowley answers. “The Winchesters still buy it. The good Cas, the righteous Cas. And as long as they still believe it, you get to believe it. Well, I got news for you, kitten. A whore is a whore is a whore.”  
One thing is sure Crowley doesn't believe in sugar counting things for anyone, especially not for him.  
He explodes. He is so angry at – everyone. At himself, at Crowley for telling the truth. They say all demons lie and it's true, but everyone does and when demons do tell the truth you can be sure that they hit where it really hurts. He shoves Crowley against the wall, hard. 

“I'm only gonna say this once,” he hisses, “if you touch a hair on their heads, I will tear it all down. Our arrangement --everything. I'm still an angel, and I will bury you.”  
And as he disappears he asks himself what on God's earth he's doing with someone like Crowely. But the thing is, he knows the answer to that question. 

~+~  
In the moments between the battles, the war, the hunt for things, dealing with Crowley, in the saner moments he is heavily questioning what he's doing.  
But then he's thinking about Dean and what they lost the first time around, because it's not only about what Dean lost: Sam. It's about what Castiel lost too. His faith and he gained a free will. Like a human being. The difference is that he isn't a human being, never was one. Doesn't know how to work, how to be a sane person. He has all this power now, he has all this responsibility and it's suffocating him.  
The only times he feels like he can breathe are when he's with Dean. Sitting in the Impala, watching him, talking to him.  
Stealing seconds, minutes, hours in the middle of the night to see Dean smile.  
They are few and far between these days. These precious moments.  
And they're getting lost in the blood he's walking knee-deep in. 

 

~4~  
You don't always see the end coming. Castiel is very aware that he just ignored all the warning signs. 

“Castiel, uh...We need you for a little powwow down here, so come on down.” 

And as stated before he just can't help himself when it comes to Dean.  
“Hello.” 

“Oh, Johnny on the spot,” Bobby says. 

“You're still here,” Castiel answers. He is wondering. Just a bit. Shouldn't they better leave the crime-scene, so to speak? Don't they think other demons might come here to check on their version of Bobby Singer? 

“Yeah, we had to bury the bodies,” Sam throws in. 

“And we found a little whiskey. Thanks for coming,” Dean says. 

“How can I help?” 

“Oh, look. We, um - we have a new plan. We think we've finally figured out a way to track down Crowley,” Sam answers. 

“What is it?” He isn't worried yet. He can still intercept whatever they have planed for Crowley. 

Bobby lights a match and drops it on the floor by Castiel's feet. “It's you.” 

He's trapped and he knows it. He knows- “What are you doing?” 

“We gotta talk,” Dean says. 

“About what? Let me go!” 

“About Superman. And Kryptonite,” Dean answers. 

“How'd you know what I said?” Bobby wants to know. 

“How long you been watching us?” Sam throws in. 

“You know who spies on people, Cas?” Dean says and without waiting for an answer: “Spies.” 

“Okay, just wait. I don't even know what you mean.” And he is a bit confused, even if he knew that this day was coming. 

“What about this demon crap hole? How is it so, uh...'Next to godliness' clean in here?” Sam says. 

“And how exactly did Crowley trick you with the wrong bones?” Bobby looks like he wants to rip the answer out of Castiel's brain. 

“It's hard to understand. It's hard to explain. Just let me go. Let me out and I can -” 

“You got to look at me, man. You got to level with me and tell me what's going on. Look me in the eye and tell me you're not working with Crowley,” Dean says and Castiel tries, he really tries. He looks Dean in the eyes, but he can't stand it. He can't lie to Dean when they're like this. When Dean looks at him like he's the only one who can save him and, Castiel realizes it in that moment – he's not that person. Not anymore. “You son of a bitch.” 

But he is not evil. “Let me explain.” 

“You're in it with him? You and Crowley have been going after Purgatory together? You have, huh? This whole time.” It's not a question anymore. Dean knows. Made all the right connections. 

“I did it to protect you,” he answers and then, because this never was only about Dean, about them: “I did it to protect all of you.”

“Protect us how? By opening a hole into monsterland,” Sam says. 

“He's right, Cas,” Bobby throws in. “One drop got through, and it was Eve. And you want to break down the entire dam?”

It's not like that. They just need to understand. “To get the souls. I can stop Raphael. Please, you have to trust me.”

“Trust you?! How in the hell are we supposed to trust you now?” And that's rich, Castiel thinks, because Dean never doubted Sam until it was too late. Why can't they do that for him too? But he knows the answer to that. 

“I'm still me. I'm still your friend. Sam...I'm the one who raised you from Perdition.” 

“What? Well, no offence...But you did a pretty piss-poor job of it. Wait. Did you bring me back soulless -” Sam hesitates here before he continues. “On purpose?”

He can't believe Sam just said that. “How could you think that?” What would be gained from that? Dean has to know that he only did it to make Dean happy. He didn't know about it until later. He didn't do it on purpose. But you suspected that something was wrong, a voice inside him whispers. 

“Well, I'm thinking a lot of things right now, Cas,” Sam answers. 

“Listen. Raphael will kill us all. He'll turn the world into a graveyard. I had no choice.” 

“No, you had a choice. You just made the wrong one,” Dean says and he sounds like his heart was being ripped out. And Castiel did it. 

“You don't understand. It's complicated,” he tries. He has to try and fix this. He has to. 

“No, actually, it's not, and you know that. Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret, huh, unless you knew that it was wrong? When crap like this comes around, we deal with it. Like we always have. What we don't do is: we don't go out and make another deal with the devil!” Dean says. 

“It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?” Castiel asks. He wonders, sometimes, how things would have been if he had stayed, if he hadn’t said goodbye, if he had come to Dean instead of leaving with Crowley and waiting in line in hell. But it's pointless, this, even this conversation is pointless. He did what he had to do. 

“I was there,” Dean says and softer: ”Where were you?” 

He knows where he was. He was with Crowley, he turned his back on the people, on the one person who would understand, because he was there from the beginning, and went to hell.  
“You should've come to us for help, Cas.” The nickname sounds strangely soft in his ears. 

“Maybe,” he answers. Maybe, but - “It's too late now. I can't turn back now. I can't.”

“It's not too late. Damn it, Cas! We can fix this!” Dean says. 

“Dean, it's not broken!” Castiel answers.  
The truth is, it maybe isn't, but he, he is. 

 

~5~  
He wishes on some days that he would've never reached Dean first. Curses his fascination with Dean and everything that came after.  
On some nights, he wishes Dean would just understand that he does what he needs to do and that he does it for them. This is not, this didn't started out as an ego trip. He had no choice.  
He takes a few minutes to watch Dean sleep. He always liked that. It makes him feel peaceful to watch over Dean's dreams. 

“Hello, Dean,” he says eventually and Dean sits up. 

“How'd you get in here?” 

“The angel-proofing Bobby put up on the house,” Castiel says. “He got a few things wrong.” 

“Well, it's too bad we got to angel-proof in the first place, isn't it? Why are you here?” Dean wants to know. Castiel can hear the rawness in his voice, the anger, the regret. He wants these few days back when they were on the same side. The stolen moments and nights he was in the same room just watching Dean sleep. The feel of Dean's hands on him. The taste of- 

“I want you to understand,” he says instead. 

“Oh, believe me, I get it. Blah, blah, Raphael, right?” Dean answers angry. 

“I'm doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing this _because_ of you,” he says and wishes his voice sounded different, less raw and broken. He needs to be strong. 

“Because of me,” Dean answers and maybe this was the wrong thing to say. Maybe this didn't come across like he wanted it to. He doesn't mean it as a bad thing. “Yeah. You got to be kidding me.” 

“You're the one who taught me that freedom and free will -” he tries again. 

Dean cuts him off, “You're a freakin' child, you know that? Just because you can do what you want doesn't mean that you get to do whatever you want!”

“I know what I'm doing, Dean,” he says and tries for calm. He never used to be like this before he met Dean. He used to be in control. He used to have faith. 

“I'm not gonna logic you, okay? I'm saying don't...Just 'cause. I'm asking you not to. That's it,” Dean says. 

“I don't understand,” because he doesn't. Like 'Do they not have the same purpose? Don't they want to stop the apocalypse? Don't they have a special bond and Castiel gets that Dean has Lisa now and it's a good thing, but- 

“Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family.” He stops and takes a breath. Castiel watches his chest. “That you are like a brother to me. So, if I'm asking you not to do something...You got to trust me, man.”  
Like a brother, Castiel thinks, and something angry and dark rises up. Like a brother? They aren't brothers, they are so much more, they used to be so much more. He gave up his brothers for Dean, he gave up his faith for Dean, he gave up his _God_ for Dean. And now Dean reduces him to family. Puts him on the same shelf he puts Sam and Bobby on. Maybe even Lisa and Ben. If you are a piece of a collection, you aren't unique anymore, no matter how small the collection is. 

“Or what?” 

There is a short moment of silence, but it rings too loud in Castiel's ears. “Or I'll have to do what I have to do to stop you.” 

“You can't, Dean. You're just a man,” he answers. “I'm an angel.” It never used to be so heard to say these things. It's almost like he doesn't want to be an angel anymore, just for now just for this one moment in time. 

“I don't know. I've taken some pretty big fish.” 

And he did too. Castiel was there to see it. “I'm sorry, Dean.” 

“Well, I'm sorry, too, then,” Dean answers and Castiel wants to hit him and fix this and a million other things. But it's not going to happen. 

 

~Interlude~  
Somewhere along the way they lost each other. And it's not only Dean's fault. 

“I wish,” Castiel says leaning against the white hospital wall and maybe this is not the right time or the right place what with Ben and Lisa just a few rooms away, but he doesn't think he can, they can, steal more moments in time anymore. 

“What?” Dean asks sharply, cutting him off. “That you thought this over before you made a pact with Crowley? Crowley for fuck's sake, Cas!” 

There is something nasty in Dean's voice. Castiel cocks his head to have a better look. “You're angry with me.”

“Yes, yes I am angry with you and disappointed.”

“Because I did what I did, or because I did it with Crowley?” Castiel asks. 

Dean balls his hands to fists at his sides and doesn't say anything for several minutes. “You made a deal with the King of Hell.” 

Oh, Castiel thinks. Oh. “I didn't kiss him,” he says and the softer: “Dean.”  
Dean's eyes snap to his and Castiel doesn't know what they want to tell him. He wants to say that he didn't because he doesn't have a soul, but somehow he knows that's not what Dean wants to hear now. 

“I-” Dean cuts himself off. He sits down on the empty hospital bed and cradles his head in his hands. “You still made a deal.” 

“I did. You weren't there. You were with Lisa and Ben and I-”

“I would have come!” Dean says, looking at him. “If you showed your face. I would have come with you.” 

“And leave the only person you ever really loved? The family you always wanted?” 

“Woman,” Dean says, softly. 

“What?” Because he doesn't understand. It doesn't matter that Lisa is a woman. Not in the long run, not at all. Not to Castiel. 

“Not person. Woman; she is the only woman I ever loved,” Dean says, looking him in the eyes. Castiel's fingers itch to touch Dean's skin, run his hand over his shoulder, there where he left a mark that can never be erased. His fingertips over ribs where he carved symbols into the bones. 

“Dean,” he says. He doesn't know what else to say. He makes a few steps forward and waits and then Dean gets up and meets him halfway. They're still not touching. 

“I lost her and Ben.” 

“You let her go,” Castiel answers. It is different. 

“I let you go too and see where that got us?!” Dean says. 

“It wasn't your decision to make,” Castiel replies. It was his own. There were things to do in Heaven. 

“It was my decision to make. As much as yours. I didn't say a word to stop you on that day in the Impala, but I'm telling you now to stop.”

“Dean.” 

“I'm telling you now to stay here. To stay with me. To-” He grabs Castiel's arm hard and something uncurls at the touch inside Castiel. He takes a breath. He missed this. He missed Dean. 

“I watched you, with Lisa and Ben. And you were happy. And who was I to come and crash everything? You know it would have burned everything to the ground. It did burn everything down to the ground.” He reaches out and places his hand where he knows the imprint is under the shirt. Squeezes a bit. Dean's breath hitches. There are words he could say here. There are words he maybe should say here, but they never did and Castiel doesn't think this is the right time or place. He doesn't think there will ever be the right time or place to tell Dean what he already knows. 

“No,” Dean says, “it isn't us that are doing this.” Castiel can feel his breath on his lips, they're so close. He can taste the desperation on the air every time Dean exhales. “It's you who's burning everything down to the ground.”  
His hand digs into Dean's shoulder too hard, he registers it just in the moment Dean makes a soft noise and steps back. 

“You don't understand-”

Dean cuts him off, his fingers are like a vice around Castiel's arm. “You don't understand. You are about to lose everything, Cas.” 

“I've already lost everything,” Castiel answers, stepping back. “But I'm going to get it back,” he adds and disappears. 

“Cas! CAS!”  
He can hear Dean and he will always hear Dean, but they aren't on the same side anymore. 

 

~6~  
War is never pretty and you have to do what you have to do. The Winchesters and Bobby, of all people, should understand that. 

“I'm sorry this had to happen,” he says with a look at the body. “Crowley got carried away.”  
Bobby stands up and Dean and Sam have to hold him back, not that Bobby could do any harm to Castiel's body.

“Yeah, I bet it was all Crowley you son of a bitch!”

“You don't even see it, do you? How totally off the rails you are,” Dean shouts. 

“Enough! I don't care what you think. I've tried to make you understand. You won't listen. So let me make this simple. Please, go home and let me stop Raphael. I won't ask again.” He answers. It has to end and it will end and he will be the one who makes it all stop. 

“Well, good, 'cause I think you already know the answer,” Dean says.

“I wish it hadn't come to this.” He shakes his head in regret, it's the truth too. He always wanted Dean on his side when he wins this war. “Well rest assured, when this is all over, I will save Sam, but only if you stand down.” He has to do what he has to do. He doesn't have to like it. In fact he doesn't like it. 

“Save Sam from what?” Dean asks. 

From himself, Castiel thinks, disappearing and reappearing behind Sam. It's not hard to locate the wall inside Sam's mind and it's even easier to break it down.  
He doesn't feel any satisfaction in doing this. In hurting Sam. It's just something that has to be done. He's going to fix this later. After he won the war and destroyed Raphael. 

~+~  
Castiel isn't exactly counting the minutes in Crowley's lab. He doesn't know where else to go. The better place he once had. That better place, it's gone and he doesn't think he'll get it back. 

“Your Purgatory power-shake, Monsieur,” Crowley says, handing him the jar with the blood. “Half monster, half virgin.”

“Thank you.”

“You seem even more constipated than usual. Maybe get yourself some Colonblow?”

Castiel looks at him, holding the jar a bit tighter. “I'm renegotiating our terms.”

“Is that so? What terms do you propose?” 

“You get nothing. Not one single soul.” He is still an Angel of the Lord, it doesn't matter that the Lord doesn't seem to care about them. He isn't going to hand over thousands, millions of souls to the King of Hell. 

“Can't help notice, seems a bit unfairly weighted. Castiel. You wouldn't dare. I brought you this deal.” 

“You think I'm handing all that power to the King of Hell? I'm neither stupid nor wicked,” he answers and is sure Dean would have another opinion on that last one. 

“Unbelievable. Have you forgotten that you're the bottom in this relationship?” Crowley asks. 

Castiel stands up. “Here are your options: You either flee, or you die.” 

“We made a pact. Even I don't break contracts like this.” 

Castiel isn't going to back down on this. He has nothing left to lose here anymore. “Flee, or die,” he repeats. 

“Boy, just can't trust anyone these days,” Crowley scoffs and disappears. 

Castiel feels like he can breathe again. After months and months of lying and spying and sweeping evidence under metaphorical carpets. He's finally – alone.  
There is one other thing he has to deal with. 

~+~  
“You rang, Cas?” Balthazar asks, appearing. 

“Yeah. We have a problem. Dean Winchester is on his way here,” Castiel says and he knows, he knows, but it's still hard. 

“Really? Oh. How'd he even know where we were?”

He puts the jar with the blood down and looks at his friend. But, then, he lost them all already. “Apparently we have a Judas in our midst.”

“Ah. Holy hell. Who is it? I bet it's that bloody little Cherub, isn't it?” Balthazar plays along. 

He stands up. “I don't know. But I - I need you to find out.”

“Of course. Um, right away. Right away. Uh, but what do you want me to do about Dean?” 

Castiel can't look at Balthazar when he's doing this. He turns away. There's blood on the walls of the lab. There is blood everywhere, he thinks. “Nothing. I'll handle him myself.” 

“Castiel?”, Balthazar asks, concern in his voice. “Are you alright?” 

He takes a shallow breath. “First Sam and Dean, and now this. I'm doing my best in impossible circumstances. My friends, they abandon me, plot against me. It's difficult to understand,” he answers. It is difficult to understand. He doesn't want the world to end like people know it. Like Dean knows it. He wants to save and preserve. Why can't they see that sometimes all you have to do is stand back and let other people handle it? 

“Well you've,“ he stops for a second, “you've always got little old me.” 

And Castiel wishes so much that that would be true, but it isn't and he can't jeopardize the war for Balthazar.  
“Yes, I'll always have you,” he says softly as he stabs one of his oldest friends.  
The light is blinding and Castiel is maybe for the first time ever glad for the fact that dead angels don't leave a body behind. 

~+~  
Castiel isn't stupid. He knows that he can't trust Crowley. It seems he can't trust anyone anymore.  
So while Crowley is busy stabbing him in the back, he plays by his own rules.  
The ritual isn't very complicated and he's done everything for this. He lost everything for this too.  
There is a feeling of warmth that is clawing its way into his body and then it fills him up to the brim. He is a vessel, and one more drop and he's going to explode. But he makes it, and he knew he could. Of all the angels he was the one, the chosen one. The one God brought back from not non-existence. It had to mean something. He's sure there's a purpose to his existence.  
The only thing left to do is tying up the ends. 

 

~7~  
He has to deal with Raphael first, of course, and then Crowley.  
And then Sam, Bobby.  
Dean. 

“You can't imagine what it's like. They're all inside me. Millions upon millions of souls,” he says just to give them some kind of idea who he is now. How much power he has now. 

“Sounds sexy,” Crowley jokes. He looks a bit shaken, Castiel thinks. He remembers faintly how that felt. “Exit stage, Crowley.”  
Raphael looks like someone killed millions of innocent people just to show him how much he'll suffer next. It is pretty accurate, Castiel thinks. 

“Now, what's the matter, Raphael? Somebody clip your wings?” 

“Castiel, please. You let the demon go, but not your own brother?” Raphael asks, which is rich, coming from someone who beat the crap out of him in front of his peers. 

“The demon I have plans for. You on the other hand...” he begins and then just snaps his fingers. The power is a thought. What he can imagine, he can do. He wishes Raphael's death and it shall be. “So, you see, I saved you,” he says to Dean and Bobby.

“Sure thing, Cas. Thank you.” 

“You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along,” he goes on. 

“Okay, Cas, you were. We're sorry. Now let's just defuse you, okay?” Dean says. 

“What do you mean?” Maybe he just didn't get the phrasing again. Dean can't mean what Castiel thinks he means. 

“You're full of nuke. It's not safe. So, before the eclipse ends, let's get the souls back to where they belong.”

“Oh no, they belong with me.” Castiel can feel every single one of them and they are beautiful, even the dark ones, those that are creeping around in the shadows of his veins, of the blood vessels of his heart. 

“No, Cas, it's it, it's scrambling your brain.” 

“No, I'm not finished yet. Raphael had many followers, and I must,” he doesn't think he should say kill here, “punish them all severely,” he finishes. 

“Listen to me. Listen, I know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I'd have died for you. I almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you - Please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben, and now I've lost Sam. Don't make me lose you too. You don't need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all.”

“You're just saying that because I won. Because you're afraid,” he says. He can feel Sam behind him, but it doesn't matter. “You're not my family, Dean. I have no family.”  
And Sam just proves it when he stabs Castiel in the back with the angel sword. Castiel pulls the sword out slowly. There's no blood on it. He puts it down on the table and looks at them. Time to get this show going, he thinks, to borrow a phrase from Dean.  
“I'm glad you made it, Sam. But the angel blade won't work, because I'm not an angel anymore. I'm your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.”  
There is so much stunned silence it's like the beginning of the world. And maybe it has to be like this, Castiel thinks.  
God waited, he can wait too. 

“Well, alright then. Is this good, or you want the whole 'forehead to the carpet' thing?” Bobby asks as he kneels down on the filthy floor of the lab. “Guys?” he says in Dean's direction and Dean and Sam start to move. 

“Stop,” Castiel orders. He can feel the confusion and resentment. “What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect, just fear.”

“Cas-” Sam starts, but he cuts Sam off. 

“Sam, you have nothing to say to me; you stabbed me in the back.” In every sense of the word, too. “Get up,” he says to Dean and Bobby. 

“Cas, come on, this isn't you,” Dean tries. 

“The Castiel you knew is gone,” Castiel answers. He still has all the memories, but it's like he can't relate to them anymore. Like he can't feel how it was, how it felt to hear Dean's breath hitch when he put his fingers on that imprint of his hand on Dean's skin. It means nothing anymore. 

“So what, then? Kill us?” Dean asks. 

“What a brave little ant you are. You know you're powerless, you wouldn't dare move against me again. That would be pointless. So I have no need to kill you. Not now. Besides,“ he says, and looks at Dean as she says it, “once you were my favorite pets before you turned and bit me.” 

“Who are you?” 

“I'm God. And if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom. If you rise up, I will strike you down. Not doing so well, are you Sam?” he says. 

“I'm fine...I'm...fine,” Sam replies, but he looks like death warmed over on a bad day. Castiel can't blame him, the wall is still crumbling as they speak. 

“You said you would fix him - you promised!” 

“IF you stood down, which you hardly did. Be thankful for my mercy,” he answers Dean and looking back to Sam: “I could have cast you back into the pit.” 

“Cas, come on, this is nuts! You can turn this around, please!” 

“I hope for your sake this is the last you see me,” he answers. He has enough of this. He has to fix Heaven now and then he can start fixing the mess God, the previous God, left on Earth. 

~+~  
The sun is shining, the grass is green and he is here to help them. To fix things, to make everything like it should be. But those that stood against him, those can't possibly think he can be merciful now. He has to make an example here. 

“Understand. If you followed Raphael, if you stood against me, punishment is certain; there is nowhere to hide. The rest of you, our Father left a long time ago, and that was hard. I thought the answer was free will. But I understand now. You need a firm hand. You need a father. And I am your father now. Be obedient, children. Or this will be your fate.”

He isn't happy about all the senseless dead. If they have listened, if they just have had faith, it wouldn't have had to come to this.  
“It is a new day. On Earth, and in Heaven. Rejoice.”

 

_III: No salvation_

~1~  
“Yeah, funny, but that's why we raise our voices! And picket their so-called weddings, and their funerals. Someone has to speak for God,” the reverend says. Castiel's seen too many of them. God just let them be with their free will to hate whatever they want to hate. 

“And who says you speak for God?” he asks. “You're wrong, I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation. On the other hand, I cannot abide hypocrites like you, reverend,” he carries on. Everyone is looking at him now and that's how it should be. 

“Okay, fun's over friend.” 

“Tell your flock where your genitals have been before you speak for me,” Castiel says, ignoring the reverend. 

“And who the heck are you?” 

“I'm God,” he answers calmly. “And he who lies in my name shall choke on his own false tongue, and his poisonous words shall betray him.” He watches as the reverend begins to choke and then falls to his knees, collapsing and dying on the floor.  
“For I am the Lord, your God,” he finishes and starts to walk out of the church.

_“Castiel...“_  
He stops and cocks his head. There's something, something- he grasps the back of a pew.  
 _“Cas!”_ the voice says again.  
He turns and looks at an image of Jesus in a window. He needs to get a grip. The voices will shut up soon. He'll make them if he has to. He needs to get himself together so he can continue to do the work that God just didn't. 

~+~  
The thing is that the voices inside his head don't shut up. They get louder even. He makes it into a bathroom after he healed the blind man and looks at himself. The blind man was right, he thinks. He doesn't look good. His face, there are blisters all over his skin. It's like his skin is burning up from inside.  
And the voices won't shut up. No matter what he's doing.  
 _“A mistake. Too late. Let us out.”_  
It feels like something wants to claw its way out of his skin. He unbuttons his shirt and the souls inside him, maybe not all, but some, are trying to get out. _“Let us out. Let us out!”_ They repeat and it's an echo that never stops, never stops. 

He looks at himself again. “No,” his reflection answers. 

~+~  
Sam and Dean are plotting against him. While he is healing the sick and punishing the wicked they are plotting against him. Trapping Death to bring him down. He can't believe it. 

“Because... We said so, and we're the boss of you. I mean... Respectfully,” Dean says. 

“Amazing,” Castiel interrupts. 

“Cas,” Sam tries. 

“I didn't want to kill you.” And he didn't want to. They were through so much together. “But now-” 

Dean cuts him off, “You can't kill us.” 

“You've erased any nostalgia I had for you, Dean,” Castiel answers, coldly. A part of him, a very tiny part, feels regret. 

“Death is our bitch. We ain't gonna die, even if god pulls the trigger,” Dean says. 

Death looks him over once. “Annoying little protozoa, aren't they? 'God'? You look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel's melting. You're going to explode.” Death states it in the calmest of tones. 

“No, I'm not.” And even to his own ears it sounds petulant. “When I've finished my work, I'll repair myself.”

“You think you can because you think you're simply under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that's not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in Purgatory, and you gulped those in, too,” Death replies. 

“Irrelevant. I control them.” He does. Now, he feels them slipping, but he is still in control here. 

“For the moment.” 

“Wait, what older things?” Dean throws in. 

“Long before God created Angel and man, he made the first beasts. The Leviathans,” Death answers.

“Leviathans?” 

Death nods, a gesture that is barely there at all. “I personally found them entertaining, but he was concerned they'd chomp the entire Petri dish, so he locked them away. Why do you think he created Purgatory? To keep those clever, poisonous things out. Now Castiel has swallowed them. He's the one thin membrane between the old ones and your home.”

“Enough,” Castiel says. 

“Stupid little soldier you are.” Death nearly seems amused, Castiel thinks and it makes him feel angry. He can feel his control on all the things inside him slipping. 

“Why? Because I dared open a door that He shut? Where is He? I did a service, taking His place.”

“Service? Settling petty vendettas?” Death says.

“No. I'm cleaning up one mess after another -selflessly.”

“Quite the humanitarian,” Death remarks. 

“And how would you know? What are you, really? A flyswatter?” Castiel says, he's pissed off. How dare Death talk to him like that? He is the new God. He's the most powerful being in existence right now. 

“Destined to swat you, I think,” Death replies. 

“Unless I take you first.”

“Really bought his own press, this one. Please, Cas. I know God, and you, sir, are no God,” Death answers. 

“All right, put your junk away, both of you. Look, call him what you want. Just kill him now!” Dean throws in and Castiel can feel that he means it. Can feel the hate, all the anger and wrath that is directed at him. He holds no place in Dean's heart anymore, but it doesn't matter. Dean doesn't have one in his either. 

Death looks at him. “Alright. Fine,” he says and Castiel has had enough of this. He snaps his fingers and frees Death. Sometimes you have to be smart about these things. “Thank you,” Death says with a barely there nod and Castiel doesn't think he needs to be around for the rest of that little play. He has places to be and people to punish. 

~+~  
When he wakes up he's covered in blood and everyone is dead. This is not what he wanted. This is not what he did. This is not who he is.  
He lost control he realizes and if he did lose control once, he knows it's going to happen again. He can hear the voices: whispering and screaming and they want only one thing. To get out. To be out there to be free. 

~+~  
“Hey, Castiel. Um... Maybe this is pointless. Look... I don't know if any part of you even cares, but, um, I still think you're one of us, deep down. I mean, way, way, way off the reservation, but... Look, we still have till dawn to stop this. Let us help. Please.”  
He can hear Sam's voice through the fog of a million other voices screaming in his head. Seems that a part of his mind is so tuned to the whims and wishes of the Winchesters that he can't turn it off. Even now, even in this state. And it will be easier to deal with Sam than with Dean. He does need help. He can't do this on his own. 

~+~  
“Sam?” his voice sounds funny, he thinks, but he's barley on his feet. He's a mess of blood and gore and all the voices in his head that are begging and demanding to let them out and he- 

“Cas.” 

“I heard your call. I need help,” he gets out just before he passes out for a bit.  
There are things in his head. Not really dreams, because angels don't sleep, but things, like memories in the nearly empty corners where his self used to be. 

~+~  
He's holding on to these parts, to these memories that are mostly fighting, war and the surprisingly soft skin on Dean's back and the scent and taste of whisky on Dean's breath and lips. He's holding on to that, because these might be the last minutes he has on Earth, before he just ceases to exist again. 

He's sitting on the floor of the lab and watching Dean being, well Dean he thinks. “We need the right blood. There's a small jar - end of the hall, s-supply closet,” he tells Sam.

“Got it,” Sam says and goes to fetch it. 

He pulls the trench coat tighter around him. He has to do this now. Time is running out. “Dean?” 

“What, you need something else?” He sounds distracted, Castiel thinks, but he can't blame Dean. He can't blame Dean for anything. This here, this is all on him and his arrogance. 

“No. I feel regret, about you,” he says. Letting it all sink in, he can't be frank about it. Not with Bobby in the same room. Dean made it perfectly clear that this wasn't something to be shared. “And what I did to Sam,” he adds.

“Yeah, well, you should.” 

“If there was time, if I was strong enough, I'd, I'd fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I die,” he answers. 

“Okay,” Dean says. He's keeping himself busy on the other end of the room. 

“Is it working?” he asks. He never really did this before. Never felt like this before. 

“Does it make you feel better?” Dean asks, stopping whatever he was doing a second ago to look at Castiel. 

“No,” he admits and then a bit softer: “You?”

“Not a bit,” Dean answers. 

It isn't what Castiel wanted to hear, he realizes. But then Dean never was anything but unpredictable. There is reassurance in that. And maybe peace. He isn't sure he deserves peace after all that he's done, but it would be nice to have it anyway. 

 

~2~  
Dean has no idea what the heck to feel. He's all messed up by this. Cas dying again isn't helping the freaking situation. They need him. He needs him. 

“Damn it. Cas, you child. Why didn't you listen to me?” He stops as Castie] moves. “Cas?! Hey! Hey! Okay. All right.” 

“That was unpleasant,” Castiel answers. 

Dean reaches out to help him up. It feels like second nature to touch Cas. “Let's get him up. Easy, there.”

“I'm alive,” Castiel states the obvious. 

“Looks like,” Bobby says, steadying him on the other side. Dean wants to hug the living hell out of Cas, even if he's still mad as fuck. 

“I'm astonished. Thank you,” he says, looking at Dean and away. “Both of you.” 

“We were mostly... just trying to save the world.” 

“I'm ashamed. I really overreached,” Castiel says and even the way he speaks now is different. This is the Castiel Dean knows. This is his nerdy angel. 

“You think?” he asks. 

“I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you,” Castiel replies. 

“All right, well, one thing at a time. Come on. Let's get you out of here. Come on.”

Castiel grabs his hand and it brings all the memories back, he stored away while Castiel was god and the freaking enemy.  
“I mean it, Dean,” Castiel says, and the way he says Dean's name. The tone in his voice. Is something Dean can't think about now. 

“Okay. All right. But let's go find Sam, okay?” Because Sam is still on the crazy train and it needs to be fixed sooner rather than later.  
Castiel lets go and stops dead in his tracks. Dean is freaking confused. 

“You need to run now! I-I can't hold them back!”

“Hold who back?” he asks. 

“They held on inside me. Dean, they're so strong.”

“Who the hell -?” Dean starts but is cut off sharply. 

“Leviathan! I can't fight them. Run!” 

Of fucking course, Dean thinks. They can never catch a break. “Go! Go get Sam! Go get Sam!” he says to Bobby. 

“Too late,” Cas says, but Dean knows, because this isn't the voice Castiel uses. He knows every single shift of tone in Castiel's voice. 

“Cas?” he tries nevertheless. Just to be sure. 

“Cas is -- he's gone. He's dead. We run the show now. Ah. Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”  
Dean wants to just fucking kill something, but even breathing hurts right now. 

~+~  
If he lets himself think about it, if he lets himself feel it, he's going to scream and he'll never stop. So he stares out over the lake and at the dark water and lets his brain deal with it in anyway it wants, except for thinking and feeling.  
He fishes the trench coat out of the water. Wet with blood and water and god only knows what else and folds it together and doesn't think about Castiel's death, or why he's hanging on to that freaking trench coat.  
It shouldn't mean anything.  
Cas betrayed him. Cas left him, he was ready to kill Dean. Dean was ready to kill him and there's so much bad blood between them, but- But, he can't. He can't think about why he can't let go.  
Can't think about how he thought for one stupid moment in time, a far away night so long ago it isn't even true anymore, that it would be okay, because Cas was strong, because he wasn't human, because he wasn't fragile like Lisa, like Ben, like the rest of them.  
He clutches the trench coat to his chest and ignores the world for a heartbeat, two at most before he gets a grip.  
They have work to do. 

~+~  
Dean is a fucking expert in not falling apart. No matter what.  
He kills his daughter and he goes on.  
His brother is the star in 'one flew over the cuckoo's nest' and he tries to deal and fix this.  
Then there is freaking Dick Roman and his smug face wherever Dean turns and-  
Sometimes all he needs is to sleep and know that somewhere up there is an angel who watches him do it. It used to help, knowing that.  
But that is not on the plate anymore. Cas is gone, ripped apart by the evil things that are now trying to take over the world and make it into their own little friendly family restaurant.  
He throws something breakable at the wall and closes his eyes.  
Bobby dying is just the icing on the freaking cake he didn't ask for. 

 

~3~  
To say that seeing Castiel is a shock would be the understatement of the freaking century. Maybe somehow he should've known. Castiel never just dies, he always comes back. He is, maybe, a very tentative maybe, Dean thinks, one of god's favorite angels.  
Seeing Castiel with a woman, a wife, for fuck's sake. It might be jealousy in that first moment, it might be something else entirely. He doesn't know and he doesn't want to have to deal with this, but he realizes that this is the only real chance Sam has. 

~+~  
Castiel sits in the passenger seat like he used to and Dean is ready to jump out of his skin. 

He keeps it together, because Cas has no freaking idea who he is, what he is. “So, Daphne – is that, uh, your wife?”

“She found me and cared for me,” Castiel says. 

“Meaning?” Trust Cas to be cryptic about everything. 

“Oh, it's a...strange story. You may not like it.”

“Believe me, I will,” he answers, because not knowing is never bliss and always dangerous. 

“A few months ago, she was hiking by the river, and I wandered into her path, drenched and confused, and,” he stops and risks a side-glance at Dean. Dean waits. “Unclothed. I had no memory. She said... God wanted her to find me.” 

“So who named you Emmanuel?” Dean asks. 

“Bouncybabynames.com.” 

“Well, it's working for you. Must be weird not knowing who you are.” He wonders how much he can say, how much he can get out of Cas by slipping random information into the conversation. 

“Well, it's my life. And it's a good life,” Castiel says simply.

I bet, Dean thinks. It could be bliss in this case, not knowing. He doesn't say any of that. “Yeah, well, what if you were some kind of... I don't know...bad guy?” he asks instead. 

“Oh, I... don't feel like a bad person.”

And when it comes down to it, he isn't. Never was, Dean thinks. Castiel always did what he thought was best for them. And Dean's pulled some really shady crap to save the people he cared about too, still. Betrayal always hurts the most from people you love. 

~+~  
“So, your brother...” Castiel begins. 

“Sam,” Dean cuts in, hoping for some kind of reaction.

“Sam. What's his diagnosis?” 

“Well, it's not exactly medical,” Dean answers. 

“That should be fine. I can cure illness of a spiritual origin.” 

“Spiritual? Okay,” he says and then, because he needs something more than that from Cas, “someone did this to him.” 

“You're angry,” Castiel states. He always liked to state the obvious, especially when Dean was freaking angry. 

“Well, yeah. Dude broke my brother's head,” Dean gives back. 

“He betrayed you, this dude. He was your friend?” Castiel wants to know. There is real curiosity and compassion in his voice. If anything this is making the whole thing harder for Dean. 

“Yeah, well, he's gone.” 

“Did you kill him?” Cas asks. “I sense that you kill a lot of people.”  
Dean risks a glance at Castiel and then looks at the road again. “Honestly, I don't know if he is dead. I just know that this... whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but - I always could. What Cas did, “ he looks a Castiel again. Searching for a reaction that isn't there. “I just can't – I don't know why.”

“Well, it doesn't matter why,” Castiel answers. 

“Of course it matters!” Dean explodes. This is so freaking messed up. 

“No. You're not a machine, Dean. You're human,” Castiel answers and then after a short pause: “Your friend's name was Cas? That's an odd name.”

Dean has no idea what to answer to that. So he keeps his mouth shut and turns the radio on. He's tired of thinking and there are demons on his heels and he needs to get to Sam as soon as he can.  
Everything else can wait. Will have to wait until Sam's better. 

 

~4~  
Dean cannot believe this shit. Why in hell can't they ever catch a break? If something goes according to plan a million other things just appear out of the blue. God, or whoever, must really hate him.  
Or maybe it's the King of Hell who hates his guts – or wants to jump them. All the demons seem to have a thing for him.  
There's a fraction of a second where he wants to tell Meg she can go to hell, but as that is home, and besides, he really does need backup and Cas has no freaking idea who or what he is.  
He's neck-deep in the water and she is his lifeline. Not very safe, but the only one that is available.  
When your options are limited, you just take the one that is less likely to get you killed. 

~+~  
Dean parks the car and grabs the binoculars. He needs to know what they are going to have to deal with. 

“Oh, gracious,” Cas says.  
This can't be good. 

“Damn it. Demons,” Meg throws in. 

“All of them?” Because they can't be freaking serious about it. 

“No grass growing under your feet,” Meg answers. He finds her pretty funny if he doesn't have the urge to kill her on the spot. 

“How many of those knives do you have?” Cas asks. 

“Just the one,” Dean replies, putting the binoculars aside. 

“Well, then, forgive me, but what do we do?” 

Which is a freaking excellent question, Dean thinks.  
As does Meg, apparently. “Yeah, Dean. Got any other ideas how we could blast through that?”

“Excuse us. Meg?” 

“Oh, for the love of...” she sighs, but follows him a bit away, so they can talk in private. “Sam's in there. I know you're enjoying the double dip with your old pal, but – “

He cuts her off, “You think it's that cut and dry? Really? You know what he did. And you want to tell him and just hope that he takes it in stride? He could snap. He could... disappear. Who knows?” The possibilities here are endless and he doesn't like a single one of the scenarios his head is coming up with. 

“I gather we know each other,” Castiel says from behind them. Damn, the angel is a freaking ninja. 

“Just a dollop,” Meg answers. 

“You can tell me. I'll be fine,” Castiel says and he's looking at Dean when he says it. 

“How do you know? You just met yourself. I've known you for years,” Dean replies. 

“You're an angel.” Damn Meg three days from Sunday to hell and wherever it's worse than there.

“I'm sorry? Is that a flirtation?” Castiel wants to know. Some things just don't change, Dean thinks. 

“No, it's a species. A very powerful one,” she answers. 

“She's not lying. Okay? That's why you heal people. You don't eat. I'm sure there's more,” Dean says, you don't sleep is on the tip of his tongue, but who would be helped with that? They are running out of time here and they have bigger fish to fry. 

“Why wouldn't you tell me?” Cas asks.“ Being an angel sounds pleasant.” 

“It's not, trust me. It's bloody, it's corrupt. It's not pleasant,” Dean answers. 

“He would know. You used to fight together. Bestest friends, actually.”  
God, Dean wishes she would just shut her cakehole. 

“We're... friends? Am I Cas? I-I had no idea. I don't remember you. I'm sorry.” 

“Look,” she throws in, “you got the juice. You can smite every demon in that lot.” 

“But I don't remember how,” Castiel says. 

“It's in there. I'm sure it's just like riding a bike,” Dean says and they are too close again. 

Castiel turns to look at him and his face is so freaking sincere when he says: “I don't know how to do that, either.” That, Dean has no idea how to answer. He just stays silent. “All right, I'll try,” Castiel adds after a moment. 

“This ain't gonna go well,” Dean says under his breath as he watches Castiel walk into the parking lot.

“I don't know. I believe in the little tree topper,” she answers. 

~+~  
Maybe she isn't so wrong. Castiel kills the demons like a pro. 

“That was beautiful, Clarence,” she says with a smile. 

“Cas?” Dean asks tentatively. 

“I remember you,” he answers and turns to look at Dean. “I remember everything.”  
Dean doesn't think he's happy about it. Dean supposes he wouldn't be happy about it either. It isn't only the shit he pulled on them and crumbling Sam's wall, it's also all the other stuff no one knows about and they don't talk about either.  
“What I did. What I became. Why didn't you tell me?” 

“Because Sam is dying in there,” Dean says. 

“Because of me. Everything. All these people. I shouldn't be here,” Castiel replies and walks away and that, that is something he can't allow to happen. Cas is Sam's only hope. 

“Cas. Cas!” 

 

~5~  
Castiel needs to be away from here and he needs to think, but of course Dean is close behind him. 

“If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time,” Dean says. He didn't see it that way back then, Castiel thinks bitter. He fought tooth and nail to stop Castiel. 

“Don't defend me. Do you have any idea the death toll in Heaven? On Earth?” he asks, turning to face Dean. He remembers everything. Everything. Does Dean too? Has he flashes of them on a warm summer night, stealing seconds, minutes out of battle and lies and spending them together under the stars? “We didn't part friends, Dean,” he adds, because that is true too. Dean wanted Death to kill him and he meant it. Castiel knows, because he could feel it at the time. 

“So what?” Dean wants to know. He's so stubborn and trying to fix this and Castiel called him his favorite _pet_. 

“I deserved to die. Now, I can't possibly fix it...” he says helplessly. He feels so out of it. Maybe ignorance is bliss. “So why did I even walk out of that river?”

“Maybe to fix it,” Dean replies softly. “Wait,” he adds, opening the trunk of the car and taking out the trench coat.  
The only thing left is to try. 

 

_~Interlude~_  
“I remember everything,” Castiel says, looking at the sky.

“I know,” Dean answers. 

“How I betrayed you, how you wanted to stop me,” he say softer. He remembers Dean's fingers around his arm like a vice. He remembers the white walls of the hospital room and how Dean- he remembers. 

“You tried to do the right thing.” 

“It was too late and-” He turns to look at Dean. He looks older, worn out. Thin around the lines of his body. Like whatever is holding him together isn't going to hold much longer. 

“Cas,” Dean says. 

“I know, we don't have time. Sam's in there and demons are hunting for me. And she is waiting.”

“Not that they will be an issue now. You can take them,” Dean says. 

“I'm sorry,” Castiel says. 

“I know,” Dean answers, grabbing his hand. His fingers curling familiar around the fabric of the trench coat. He looks down at it. 

“You kept it,” he says gently. 

“It was yours. It was the only thing I had left of you,” Dean replies and he isn't looking at Castiel, but his fingers tighten just a fraction.  
Castiel smiles.  
Things can be fixed and he's going to star with Sam. “Let's do this.” 

 

~6~  
There is no one stopping them when they enter the hospital again. Dean leaves Meg by the car, because he doesn't want her near his brother if it's all the same to her. And it seems it is.  
He knows they have no time, but he pulls Castiel into one of the empty bedrooms anyway. 

 

_~Interlude~_  
Dean has a sense of deja vu. He and Castiel in an empty hospital room and the world out to get them. On the verge of something. Something bad, probably. 

“Dean?” Castiel says and there is this specific note in his voice, the one Dean didn't think he'll ever hear again. The one that makes him want to press Castiel against the nearest wall, get his knee between Castiel's legs and tangle his fingers into the bloody trench coat while they kiss until they're out of breath. “Dean?” Castiel asks again. 

“I don't know. I feel like something bad is about to happen and-” He stops, biting his lip. He has no idea how to do this. 

“Before I-” Castiel pauses as if searching for the right words. “Before I got possessed by the Leviathans and nearly drowned,” he settles on, “I told you that I would redeem myself to you.” 

“It wasn't all your fault,” Dean says. 

Castiel shakes his head. “It was. I was arrogant. I was selfish, I was acting-”

“You were acting human, or as close as you can get,” Dean interrupts. 

“I always felt the closest to human with you,” Castiel says softly. “The most centered and connected.”  
Dean takes a deep breath and then presses Castiel against the wall. His fingers tangle in the trench coat, he hears Castiel's sharp intake of breath and feels like everything could be okay again when Castiel's hand settles on the scar, the imprint of his hand, on his shoulder. 

“This is where you belong,” he whispers just before he kisses Castiel, and he has no idea what he means, but he never knew what he meant with Castiel.  
It's not a gentle kiss, he wants it to be, but it's not happening, because there is so much anger and loss and emotions, for fuck's sake, but that's okay. Castiel isn't going to break. If them finding each other again proves anything than it's that: Castiel is build to last. 

 

~7~  
“What the hell do you mean you can't?” Dean asks. This, this can't be happening. 

“I mean there's nothing left to rebuild.” Castiel's standing at a distance, but it seems to Dean like he still didn't master the boundaries thing. It doesn't bother Dean anymore. 

“Why not?”

“Because it crumbled. The pieces got crushed to dust by whatever's happening inside his head right now,” Castiel answers. He looks like the world is going to hell and the funny thing is, the world might be. 

“So you're saying there's nothing? That he's gonna be like this until his candle blows out?” 

“I'm sorry. This isn't a problem I can make disappear. And you know that,” he replies and then stops, cocks his head in that weird way of his. Dean does have a very bad, not good feeling about this. “But I may be able to shift it.” 

“Shift?” Dean asks. There's a knot in his stomach. 

“Yeah, it would get Sam back on his feet,” Castiel answers and sits on the bed, as close to Sam as he can. Dean is watching. He isn't sure he wants to know what Castiel is going to do. He might not like it. He might try to stop it. “It's better this way. I'll be fine,” Castiel adds with a glance at Dean. Dean has a flashback to the time he tried to put the souls back where they belonged. 

“Wait, Cas, what are you doing?” he tries again. Ignorance is never bliss.

Castiel ignores him. “Now, Sam this may hurt. And if I can't tell you again, I'm sorry I ever did this to you,” he says softly, touching Sam's head.  
And suddenly Dean gets it and he has no time to stop it and he doesn't know if he could. Everyone pales compared to Sam and Dean knows that it's not healthy and maybe Lisa was right as she said that he would never be happy as long as Sam was alive.  
Castiel knew, of course, he didn't give Dean the option to choose. Maybe he didn't want to know. 

~+~  
Dean has his brother back and because this is his life he lost someone in return. Again. 

“I don't know. I mean, we can't just leave him,” Sam says as they're leaving the hospital. 

“Well, we can't bring him with us. Everything on the planet's out for us, okay?” He waits for Sam to nod before he continues: “When word gets out, we can't protect him. Not really. This is safer.”  
Sam doesn't get in as they reach the car. Dean knows that look. It's the ‘I'm righteous and concerned’ look. “Every demon who knows about Cas is dead,” he adds. 

“Not everyone. Look, Dean, this whole 'enemy of my enemy is my friend' thing feels kind of like a demon deal.” 

“It's not a deal. It's –“

“It's what?” Sam cuts in. 

“Mutually assured destruction. Look, man, I get it. She's not our friend,” Dean says, because leaving Castiel with Meg isn't the best solution, but it's not like they have any other freaking options left. They can't help Castiel, Dean can't be sitting at his bed, no matter how much he wants to right now. “We don't even have friends. All our friends are dead,” he finishes opening the car door. That shuts Sam up. 

There is a slight chance Castiel can fight it off, after all this is not his memory, it's not his madness and he isn't human. He doesn't have a soul. For all they know Castiel could snap out of it.  
Dean sighs and starts the car.  
What do they keep saying? Hope springs eternal. 

~end~


End file.
